


one hundred ways to say "i love you"

by soare



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soare/pseuds/soare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I said I would never love anyone else, ever. I would never become attached, I’d never stay put anywhere, I’d have nothing for myself; I decided I would pretend to be alive. And this is what I’ve been waiting for, all this time, renouncing all possible lives, for one only, with you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001 - 010

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a writing challenge to see if i can actually write up 100 little drabbles
> 
> i'll be posting these up in separate chapters with (hopefully) ten drabbles written for each

> **1.** _“Pull over.  Let me drive for a while.”_

  
They are on a mission that involves an eight hour drive into the countryside – meaning there is nothing but plain landscapes as far as the eye can see, and a road in front of them that seems to go on forever.

Mamiya is bored of staring out the window for a minute and then spending the next losing at least five years off of his life when Ariga swerves dangerously on the road before miraculously setting the car back into its proper lane.

His excuse is that he saw a rock and thought it was a turtle.

Mamiya sighs and reaches over to poke Ariga in the arm (if anything the annoying gesture would help keep Ariga awake).

“Pull over at the next exit.”

“I can still drive.”

“You’ve been driving for six and a half hours straight. _All night_ ,” Mamiya rolls his eyes at the stubbornness of his Messiah. “Let me drive for a while.”

Ariga stares at the other out of the corner of his eyes for a moment, before deciding to flip on the turn signal and starts to slow down.

Satisfied, Mamiya smiles. “Good.”

 

 

 

> **2.** _“It reminded me of you.”_

  
The mission was successful; minus the purple and yellowing bruises that Ariga can feel from the earlier scuffle. There was a bit of trouble, but nothing that he and Shirazaki couldn’t take care of in a simple brawl.

In which said fight escalated into the toy shop next door to the building that they infiltrated. Still, the mission was a success and the two of them evaluated the messy situation for a moment, before deciding to hightail out of there to head to where the support team was waiting for them. They got what they came for so there was no point in waiting for damage control.

When they arrived Mamiya nervously walked over to Ariga and with a silent look that asked if Ariga’s condition is fine.

Ariga had to ignore the image of a kicked puppy, that flashed in his mind, in favor of reaching into his pocket and pulling out a stuffed sheep keychain.

“It reminded me of you,” Ariga can’t meet Mamiya’s eyes as he puts the object in Mamiya’s hands. He then pats Mamiya on the head once before hastily walking past his Messiah in the pretense of going to the first-aid kit to patch himself up.

So he never saw the way Mamiya’s cheeks flush a pretty shade of red as he holds the adorable keychain with awe.

 

 

 

> **3.** _“No, no, it’s my treat.”_

  
Mamiya wonders if this is considered as an abuse of upperclassmen power, since he never imagined spending his — _and_ Ariga's — day off going on a snack errand for Mitsumi. To a very specific sweet shop even, since Mitsumi gave them very clear instructions to follow.

The violinist stares down at the scrap piece of paper in his hand, a list of sweet treats' names that he has never even heard of himself.

“Um, shall we go in, Ariga?” Mamiya lets out a nervous chuckle at the quiet man next to him.

Wordlessly, Ariga glances at Mamiya once before walking ahead and into the store. Mamiya can't tell if he's annoyed or just being his usual, quiet self; but Mamiya can't hold back the small laugh at the sight of Ariga's all black-clad figure disappearing into the brightly colored candy shop.

Together they manage to find all the sweets that Mitsumi requested. Ariga decides to go back outside and waits while Mamiya pays and checks out. It doesn't take long before Mamiya exits with the sound of a bell jingling as the door closes behind him.

“Ariga,” Mamiya calls out, before suddenly holding a lollipop in front of his partner's face.

For a moment Ariga stares back with a blank look, but slowly and eventually takes the offered candy.

Mamiya smiles and starts to walk down the sidewalk. “My treat.”

Ariga looks down at the candy in his hand before staring up at Mamiya's back with a raised brow. He lets out a huff of breath when he starts walking to catch up with the other.

“You charged this on Mitsumi-san's credit card, didn't you?”

“What he doesn't know won't kill him.”

 

 

 

> **4.** _“Come here. Let me fix it.”_

  
No matter how long the two of them have been sharing the same room, Mamiya has to always, always resist the urge to laugh at Ariga first thing in the morning. Especially on the ones when Mamiya manages to wake up earlier than his Messiah. Catching Ariga with bedhead is a sight Mamiya doesn’t think he’ll ever get bored of.

He hops off of his bed to retrieve a bottle of gel and a comb from Ariga’s belongings. Then he returns back to sit on the edge of his bed, setting the stuff down on the bed next to him and he parts his legs a bit.

“Come over here,” Mamiya motioned with a hand. “Let me fix your hair.”

Ariga slowly blinks his eyes at first, still tired, but nonetheless he slides out of his bed and sits down on the floor with his back to Mamiya.

Smiling to himself, Mamiya brushes a hand through Ariga’s short and surprisingly soft hair before reaching over to pick up the comb.

 

 

 

> **5.** _“I’ll walk you home.”_

  
Ariga leans up against a tree, hidden in its shadows, watching his Messiah across the park.

Mamiya is sitting on a lone bench, though he himself is not alone. Around him is a group of children, completely enamored with the soft tune that is coming from the violin that's propped up on Mamiya's shoulders.

Now if only there were birds singing and deers gathered around then this would be a sight straight out of a Disney movie. Of course, Ariga scoffs away the thought, folds his arm across his chest, and continues to watch from a distance.

He knows that Mamiya comes to this park every once in a while to play his violin. Just like how Mamiya knows, when he is done playing and the audience leaves, where to turn his head and look over to where he sees Ariga is waiting. Not wanting to make Ariga wait too long, Mamiya quickly packs up his violin into its case and he bounds over to his Messiah.

“Hi,” He says shyly.

Ariga gives a slight nod with his head and starts to turn on his heels. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

 

 

 

> **6.** _“Have a good day at work.”_

  
Mamiya lets out a tired sigh of breath when he carefully sets the large duffle bag onto the dirty floor of the building’s rooftop. Leaving the bag he walks over and peers over the edge of the building, trying to find a good position to set up shop.

Eventually he finds the perfect angle where he can easily keep an eye on all entrances and exits of the building across the street. So he retreats back to the duffle bag, unzips it and starts to get to work.

By the time he props the sniper rifle up over the edge of the roof, with the other end up of it against his shoulder, Ariga’s voice buzzes through the bluetooth earpiece.

_“Ready?”_

Perfect timing as always, Mamiya smiles to himself when he kneels down onto one knee, eye looking through the glass scope and he easily spots Ariga down at ground-level in front of their targeted building. Ariga isn’t wearing their usual uniform though; he’s dressed neatly in a dress-suit with a pair of fake, non-prescribed glasses for aesthetic reasons alone.

Just a simple infiltration and information gathering mission, and Mamiya is there as support from outside.

“Yup,” Mamiya chimes back. “Have a good at work.”

He can hear Ariga scoffing from the other end that makes Mamiya chuckle.

 

 

 

> **7.** _“I dreamt about you last night.”_

  
_“Mamiya.”_

Mamiya blinks a couple times and by the time he turns towards the voice Ariga is already there. Standing next to him with a small smile traced onto his lips and a calloused hand that tucks some of Mamiya’s hair behind his ear. Ariga is then leaning in until his lips and breath brush against Mamiya’s sensitive ear.

_“Mamiya.”_

Everything about Ariga is so gentle and soothing that Mamiya almost wants to get lost in the comfortable warmth of his Messiah – almost.

He opens his eyes, that he did not realize he had closed, and immediately Mamiya is using his arms to push Ariga away with enough force that he stumbles back a few steps. When he rights himself and fixes his footing balance, Mamiya looks up at Ariga’s surprised face.

“Mamiya?”

“This is wrong,” Mamiya says the words before he even has to think about them.

The beautiful house scenery is wrong (this isn’t the Church), their clothes are wrong (not Messiah uniforms), and this loving, caring Ariga is wrong ( _he_ isn’t Ariga Ryou).

“I’m not the Ariga you know, is what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” Ariga suddenly says with a hand on his hip and an unusually bored expression on his face. “You are smart, Mamiya, I think you know that _we_ both know this isn’t real life.”

For a moment Mamiya doesn’t say anything as he warily stares at Ariga – who isn’t really Ariga. Nervously, Mamiya starts to rub his arm as he looks down at the ground. “Of course this is fake… I was rejected by the Ariga I know.”

“Technically, you never told him your feelings,” Dream-Ariga cuts in with a roll of his eyes, “So, he didn’t necessarily reject you.”

This earns a sarcastic huff of laughter from Mamiya, and he stays quiet because he doesn’t need to explain himself to his own twisted subconsciousness. He doesn’t need to remind himself that Ariga is a perfect soldier who doesn’t need any dead weight around.

Which is why Mamiya always knew that he would never be good enough for Ariga.

“But _here_ you are good enough,” Ariga smirks because, of course, he knows exactly what Mamiya is thinking of right now. “You don’t have to leave, you know, here you can have everything you want. There’s nothing left for you if you wake up.”

At first Mamiya raises a brow, wondering what those words mean just now.

“Don’t tell me you forgot, Mamiya.”

Forget? How did Mamiya forget the ambush during the mission, or the bullet he took in the head to cover for Ariga. The very bullet that landed him into a hospital where he’s been in a coma for two weeks now.

“Oh…” His left hand suddenly twitches and, when he looks down at it, he remembers.

The brain has been damaged that affected a part of his nervous system – his left arm is completely useless.

“See?” Ariga is suddenly crowding over Mamiya’s smaller frame. “Just run away and stay with me.”

Mamiya could stay here. He doesn’t have to be a trained soldier here, he could still play the violin, he could be loved by Ariga. He lets his eyes slid shut, and he feels like everything is going to be just fine.

 _But_ –– “No.”

For the second time he pushes his twisted subconsciousness away. He inhales a huge gulp of breath, then exhales and he puts on his best smile despite feeling his body tremble just the slightest.

“I don’t care if I’m going happy or not, but I won’t run away from my Messiah.”

Just like that the world turns pitch black and he feels like he’s falling through a never-ending darkness.

The next time he opens his eyes he’s staring up at an off-white colored ceiling. The brightness of the room makes his eyes water a bit in sensitivity, and he has to squint them to make the appearance of the room bearable. Then, suddenly, there is a shadow standing over him and, instead of the dirty ceiling, he’s staring up at Ariga.

“You’re awake,” Ariga’s voice is so soft-spoken and tired, with dark lines under his eyes that indicated that he probably hasn’t gotten a full night’s rest in a while.

“Mm,” Mamiya’s throat feels dry and his entire body aches in ways he doesn’t want to think about. But, somehow, he still manages a small smile. “I dreamt about you.”

“Was it a good one?” Ariga decides to humor the other – if only to welcome the distraction for whatever is to come later.

“Something like that, but it wasn’t real.”

 

 

 

> **8.** _“Take my seat.”_

  
Mamiya deserves a reward for not tripping or face-planting himself while wearing these ridiculous heels. Not to mention he feels his cheeks going numb from all the smiling and pleasantries, while he tries to ignore the chill on his legs from the way too short dress he is wearing.

Eventually he manages to get away from the crowd, drawing himself into a secluded corner. He lets out a quick, tired sigh before taking a quick look over the reception hall. His sensitive tone of hearing manages to pick up an unusually fake laughter coming from his Messiah; and when Mamiya turns his head he sees Ariga sitting at a table with a few strangers.

No matter how many undercover missions they go on, Ariga’s acting skills never fail to surprise Mamiya. Since it actually looks genuine that Ariga is enjoying whatever small talk they were having.

Mamiya straightens his back, pats down the itchy wig so it looks somewhat presentable, and ignores the pain in his feet as he walks over to join Ariga. He slides on a pleasant smile when he nears the group and Ariga is the first to notice him.

“There you are, my dear,” Ariga says so smoothly that Mamiya almost trips over his own two feet, if it were not for Ariga taking his hand into his own.

“Come sit with us,” Ariga suggests, after leaving a quick kiss to the top of Mamiya’s hand. He then stands up and gives a gentle pull of Mamiya’s arm to lead him into his chair. “Here, take my seat.”

Mamiya does and shyly keeps his face down. Because he’s nowhere as good of an actor as Ariga when he tries to hide the blush that’s spread across the bridge of his nose.

Then when he hears one of the older men telling Ariga what a ‘lucky man’ he is, Mamiya wonders if the ground could just swallow him up right about now.

 

 

 

> **9.** _“I saved a piece for you.”_

  
If you asked anyone at the Church, everyone would say and agree that Shirazaki Mamoru is an angel.

A legit, actual angel because while everybody was too concerned with self-training and writing reports, Shirazaki managed and planned a surprise birthday party for Yuuri all by himself. It is a surprise itself that Kamikita would allow a party of some sort to happen, but he (and Kuroko had a say in this no doubt) agreed that some downtime wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Mamiya keeps to himself on one of the couches at the far end of the lobby, content with watching his friends from afar. In his lap is a paper plate with a half-eaten slice of cake.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Ariga says from out of nowhere.

Luckily, Mamiya is probably the only one who can ever hear Ariga’s quiet footsteps. Which helps in the cases that he doesn’t jump or flinch at the sudden appearance of his Messiah all the time. So all he does is lightly shake his head before looking up at Ariga, “It’s fine. You did volunteer to take care of reports for Shirazaki, after all.”

Ariga only nods his head once as a silent response.

Mamiya smiles back before looking down into his lap where he forked off the corner of the cake. Then he lifts up the fork and offers it to the other.

“I saved a piece for you.”

 

 

 

> **10.** _“I’m sorry for your loss.”_

  
“Sorry about your loss,” Ariga really is sorry, considering the poor state of Mamiya's violin.

He may not know much about music and instruments, but Ariga at least knows that a violin should not be in two splintered pieces.

Surprisingly, Mamiya doesn't seem as distressed over his precious belonging. Or he's gotten better at hiding it, Ariga thinks while he watches Mamiya squat and poke at the broken instrument with a finger.

“No need to be sorry,” Mamiya quietly chuckles. “Better that my violin takes the fall and not me, right?”

Ariga lets out a small sigh, unfolding his arms so he can reach over and pat the top of Mamiya's head. “I know, but that doesn't change what you lost.”

This time Mamiya laughs, like an actual laughter of amusement, as he leans his head into the warmth of Ariga's hand. “Stop taking this so seriously, Ariga.”

He unfolds his arms so he could start picking up his broken violin, and carefully puts it away into the case that he brought it in. After securely zipping up the case, Mamiya pushes himself up into a standing position.

With Mamiya standing upright next to him, Ariga removed his hand from the other’s head and returns it back to his side. He gives the black violin case on last glance, before turning on his heels to leave – they are done here.

“We’ll fix it,” Ariga suggests, barely looking over his shoulder as he waits for his Messiah.

At first Mamiya wordlessly stares and blinks at Ariga’s back. Then a smile traces his lips as he holds the case tightly in his hand, before taking a few wide strides to catch up.

“Yeah, we can fix this.”


	2. 011 - 020

 

> **11.** _“You can have half.”_

  
First of all, if there is one thing that Ariga knows about Mamiya it is that subtlety is not his specialty. Second, if there is one thing that Ariga did not know it is he did not expect Mamiya to have a secret sweet tooth.

“Are you sure you don’t want it?” Ariga asks with a raised brow. He starts to scoot the plate of a freshly baked slice of pie towards Mamiya, who is sitting on the other side of the table.

Mamiya has his chin in his hands and an obvious pout puckered on his lips. Somehow he keeps his hands to himself, despite the obvious want on his face.

“No, I’m fine.”

Ariga rolls his eyes at the stubbornness that is his Messiah. He decides to make a mental note that (if and when) the next time Shirazaki asks for Ariga’s assistance in his newfound hobby for baking, that he will invite Mamiya to join them.

Until then, he has to remedy the situation that is right now. So slowly Ariga pushes the plate until it is at the middle of the table. Then he holds out the fork, pointed end facing away, to Mamiya and waits for him to take it.

“You can have half.”

Mamiya literally takes less than a minute to contemplate Ariga’s offer. Soon enough, he takes the fork with a pleased smile spread across his face.

“Half, then.”

 

 

 

> **12.** _“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”_

  
Ariga has been trained to shoot or be killed for as long as he can remember, ever since he has been able to pick up a gun and carry its weight. So he's used to the chilly wind that passes by overhead and taking in the comfort of the surrounding darkness. Sleep isn't even a concern on this all night, stake out mission.

Unfortunately, he can't say the same goes for Mamiya.

The two of them have been quiet for some time, just sitting here on the rooftop; but if Ariga looks hard enough in the darkness then he can see the shoulders of his Messiah trembling.

A small sigh slips out when Ariga starts to take off his jacket before throwing it over the unsuspecting Mamiya.

It’s a comical sight watching Mamiya flail his arms a bit, until he realizes the situation. He takes a moment to straighten out the jacket, properly setting it over his shoulders and is immediately rewarded with warmth. Though he still turns his head and gives Ariga a questioning look with a tilt of his head.

“Take my jacket. It’s only going to get colder,” Ariga explains despite the obviousness of his actions.

Mamiya seemed fine with this choice of action for a little bit. Until suddenly he steps in close to Ariga’s side and attempts to throw a part of the jacket over Ariga himself.

Of course, it doesn’t work. The jacket is only made to fit one person, not two, but that doesn’t stop Mamiya from trying. Not until Ariga has one sleeve and a partial bit of the jacket awkwardly over his shoulders; considering the way Mamiya is still mostly wrapped up in it.

“Better?” Mamiya asks while disregarding the awkwardness of he situation.

Yet, more than the jacket sloppily flopped around his shoulders, Ariga feels a lot warmer just by having Mamiya at his side.

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

> **13.** _“Sorry I’m late.”_

  
Ariga can physically see the breath of air that he exhales into the cold air. The back of his uniform is most likely getting ruined when he leans back against the wall, and slides down it when his legs are too tired to keep him standing upright.

Though the rest of his uniform is in no better shape. Especially the cut in the left side that is stained dark from blood seeping out of a knife wound. Luckily, the cut did not go deep and Ariga was able to stop the blood with a bit of pressure from a piece of cloth. He just lost enough blood to feel too weak to go anywhere.

Just a quick break, Ariga tells himself when he leans his head back and closes his eyes. A few minutes before Ariga goes back to getting himself out of this mess, just like how he’s always done it.

He is not sure how much time has passed — losing a lot of blood does mess up someone's concept of time — but Ariga's keen senses are still intact when he hears footsteps approaching. He hears the sound of gravel being crunched under someone’s feet as they crouch down next to Ariga.

His eyes aren't even open but Ariga still manages to reach out, on reflex, to grab at the slim wrist of his assailant. Surprisingly, there is no resistance, but rather a somewhat high-pitched squeak instead.

Quirking an eyebrow, Ariga opened his eyes and found himself faced with a surprised, wide-eyed Mamiya.

“Ma... miya?”

His Messiah let out a breath of air that he had been holding in apparently, and he somehow managed a small smile. “Who else did you think I was?”

Ariga's grip on Mamiya's wrist loosen until it slipped off and back into his lap from the lack of strength. He feels tired and probably looks like it from the way Mamiya tenses and immediately presses a finger to the device in his ear.

There's some talking going on between Mamiya and whoever is on the other end of that communication line, but Ariga couldn't quite catch all of it when he feels light-headed and exhausted. He starts to feel his head fall forward until a pair of cold, leathered gloved hands gently cup his face.

“Ariga,” There is worry laced in Mamiya’s soft spoken words. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Somehow, the only muscles that are working for Ariga are the ones that make the corner of his lips quirk up. “It's okay.”

 

 

 

> **14.** _“Can I have this dance?”_

  
The main lounge is empty, except for Mamiya sitting at one of the tables where he is doing some paperwork. Next to the stack of completed reports is his phone that’s playing strings of instrumental music to keep the silence away.

It becomes background noise that continue well into the evening, alongside the noises of a pen against paper and the clicking keyboard strokes on a small laptop. Mamiya is so nose-deep buried in his research and reports that he doesn’t even hear the quiet footsteps coming up from behind him.

Ariga first clears his throat as a warning of his presence, before then placing a hand on Mamiya’s shoulder. “Still working?”

Mamiya finds a small ache in his neck when he turns his head to look up at his Messiah. He tries to sooth it by rubbing the palm of his hand around the side of his neck, but still manages to give Ariga a smile.

“I’m almost done,” Mamiya replies, but ends up getting a raised brow and look of disbelief from Ariga in return. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I am, I swear.”

Ariga still looks like he doesn’t believe a single word, but he doesn’t say anything and that’s good enough for Mamiya.

Silence falls in between them, minus the music still playing from the small speakers of Mamiya’s phone. The track changes and goes onto the next tune, one that makes Mamiya suddenly smile with an idea in mind.

He carefully scoots back in his chair to give himself room to stand up, before standing up and taking a step back so that there’s space between him and his Messiah. Mamiya puts one hand against his chest, bends down into a small bow and holds his other hand out towards Ariga.

“Can I have this dance?”

It is the perfect picture of a perfect gentleman asking a fine lady for a dance. So perfect that Ariga can't help but cover his mouth with a hand and look away to hide the smile that threatens to come out.

“Why?”

Mamiya stands back up straight with cheeks puffed out and a pout on his face. This was a response he was expecting, though some part of him was hopeful for a different outcome. He wasn't going to let Ariga win, however, and he reached out and took Ariga's hands into his own — leaving nothing for Ariga to hide behind.

“Dancing doesn't need to have a reason,” Mamiya says while gently tugging on Ariga's hands. “But if you continue to be persistent about this, then the point is that I need a break and dancing sounds like the solution.”

This time Ariga raises a confused brow, but lets Mamiya continue to tug and sway their hands to and fro as he pleased. They were quiet again; Ariga just staring and Mamiya waiting for a response.

Finally, Ariga lets out a small sigh of defeat and he pulls Mamiya close.

“Just one song.”

 

 

 

> **15.** _“I made your favorite.”_

  
A disaster nearly happens when Ariga – too busy with staring at the reports on his tablet – nearly collides into Mamiya when he rounds the corner at the end of the hallway. Luckily, he manages to prevent said disaster thanks to his quick reflexes and Mamiya’s high-pitched, panicked yelp.

Though the volume of Mamiya’s voice made sense once Ariga notices a plate of sliced baked pie in Mamiya's hands. He can see a string of steam coming from the pie and just the aroma alone is enough for Ariga to piece together that that slice is freshly baked.

“Um, hi,” Mamiya sheepishly smiles.

Ariga slowly nods his head in greeting and then eyes the dessert treat in Mamiya's hands. He's not even sure where to start, but luckily he doesn't have to when Mamiya holds the plate out until it's practically right under Ariga's nose.

“I made your favorite?” There is a lack of confidence in Mamiya's voice, but he makes up for it by going off on a tangent. “Kuroko wanted to bake so he made me join him, and you can't say no to Kuroko because you just don't.”

Mamiya ducks his head a bit and tries his best to hide behind the pie slice; but not before Ariga notices red on his Messiah's cheeks.

“Anyway, I heard that you like apple pie? So, um, Kuroko helped me make this and I just wanted to bring you a piece and—”

“My favorite?” Ariga questions with a quirk in his eyebrow.

The interruption halts Mamiya's tangent immediately. He peeks out from behind the pie and blinks up at the other. “Shirazaki told me?”

Ariga furrows his brows and frowns in confusion. Since he was young he never had that sort of luxury, so Ariga has never had a preference about food or anything in general. Still, he doesn't know why Mamiya is mentioning about getting strange information from Shirazaki when—

Oh — suddenly Ariga remembers mentioning that he did tell Shirazaki something like this as a way to pass off small talk. He only said apple pie is his 'favorite' because everyone likes apple pie (right?).

Of course, he can't correct Mamiya and say that he doesn't have a particular favorite dessert treat. Not when Mamiya tried so hard and went out of his way to deliver it to Ariga, knowing that he was going to be busy with reports all day.

He sighs and tucks his tablet between his arm and side. Then Ariga reaches out, takes the fork off of the plate and cuts off a small piece. He leans forward and takes the crumbly piece into his mouth, nice and neat off of the fork.

When he looks back up, in mid-chew, Ariga finds Mamiya staring at him, waiting with expectations. It's like watching a puppy wag its tail and Ariga allows himself a small smile from that image.

He sets the fork back down on the plate so that he could have a free hand to pat the top of Mamiya's head.

“It's good. Next time, call me over and we can eat together.”

 

 

 

> **16.** _“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”_

  
Mamiya wakes up with a violent shake and finds himself staring wide eyed at the gritty textured wall of his room.

A nightmare; he assumes from the bit of cold sweat he feels dripping down his neck and forehead, and the way his breath comes out shakily when he exhales. Though he can’t seem to remember what his dream was about. Not that he cares when he is pulling the blanket up to his chin and trying to ball himself up on his small bed.

“Mamiya?”

He stills when he hears his name being called out by Ariga’s familiar, deep voice. For a moment, Mamiya wonders if he could pretend he’s still asleep to avoid any sort of awkward confrontation. Then he realizes that this is Ariga, and nothing goes amiss with him.

Mamiya tries to steady his breathing before finally rolling over and onto his other side. His eyes didn’t need to get used to the darkness when he can clearly see Ariga sitting upright in his own bed, with a book in his lap and his cellphone’s flashlight function turned on.

Almost – just almost – he wants to tell Ariga about the consequences of reading in the dark without proper lighting. But Ariga is already one step ahead when he puts down his phone in favor of reaching over to the nightstand to turn on the light. The small lamp isn’t bright enough to light up the entire room, but it was enough for Mamiya to still squint his eyes just a bit at first.

“…Sorry if I woke you,” Mamiya eventually mumbles through the blanket.

“It’s fine,” Ariga dismisses.

Mamiya pulls the blanket back, braving the cold air and sitting up in his bed. His hands keep busy by fiddling with the edge of the thick comforter.

Neither of them say anything for a while and Mamiya wonders if he should try to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep while it's still dark. Though thinking back on the nightmare, that he can't seem to remember despite it being the reason why he is awake right now, doesn't make going back to sleep a welcoming idea.

“Mamiya.”

Ariga's voice snaps him out of his thoughts and Mamiya whips his head to questioningly look the other. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he never heard or saw Ariga moving around. So he blinked in surprise when he noticed how Ariga shifted over and made space on his bed.

Nothing else is needed to be said for Mamiya to understand what Ariga is offering. He takes his comforter off, throws his legs over the edge of his bed and stands up. The soles of his feet sting from the cold tiles of their bedroom flooring; but Mamiya ignores that as he quietly walks the small distance from his bed to Ariga’s.

First, Mamiya gingerly sits on the edge of Ariga’s bed and waits to see if perhaps the other changed his mind at some point. There is no reaction, so Mamiya brings his legs up onto the bed and scoots back until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Ariga.

The shoulder that touches Ariga’s own is warm, but Mamiya’s other side is cold. Though the problem is easily fixed when Ariga throws enough blanket to cover his Messiah.

The added warmth makes Mamiya drunk with drowsiness and he already feels his eyelids go heavy. He repositions himself so that he’s laying down on his side, instead of sitting up, and Mamiya curls the blanket around his body tight to keep any warm air from escaping. Ariga’s body heat is too warm to resist, so Mamiya inches closer until his head hits Ariga’s thigh, and he’s content with being close just like this.

Ariga reaches over with a hand and gently pats Mamiya’s head and threads his fingers through soft hair. “Get some sleep now.”

Mamiya doesn’t fully nod, not wanting to lose the soothing touch on his head, but he lets out a tired hum. He’s about to close his eyes, until he spares one more glance up at his Messiah.

“Sorry for interrupting your reading.”

This time Ariga looks away from the said book in his lap, and he stares at Mamiya for barely a few seconds before looking away again.

“I said it was okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Mamiya let’s out a soft and quiet chuckle, before letting his eyes shut close. Nightmares no longer scare him, not when he knows Ariga is watching over him.

“Then… thank you.”

 

 

 

> **17.** _“Watch your step.”_

  
Ariga carefully hops over a mass of concrete rubble, landing perfectly on two feet. The laboratory is in shambles and the very definition of destruction, but the only reason they’re here is to find anything useful or worth savaging.

“Watch your step,” Ariga warns when he steps over a particular mess of broken glass and pieces of what was probably a table before. He hears Mamiya following up behind him and he turns around so he could hold out a helping hand.

His Messiah smiles, small and shy, and reaches out to take the hand.

With a tight – but not too strong – of a grip on Mamiya’s hand, Ariga guides him over the mess until Mamiya is right by his side. The two were about to move on and continue their search, that is until they heard a chuckle coming from the other Messiah pair.

“You two are so cute,” Yuuri teased.

“Ariga is a true gentleman,” Shirazaki added, with a knowing smile on his lips.

Mamiya didn’t say a word, but he did duck his head down and hoped that his overgrown bangs would hide the blush dusting his cheeks.

At the same time Ariga just sighed and tugged at his and Mamiya’s joined hands. “We don’t have time to waste. Let’s look over there.”

Despite the teasing, neither of them let go of each other’s hands.

 

 

 

> **18.** _“Here, drink this.  You’ll feel better.”_

  
“Here,” Mamiya holds out a mug of hot tea, with just the right amount of milk and sugar.

Ariga, sitting in bed, only spares Mamiya – and his offered drink – a quick glance before returning his focus and attention to the stack of papers in his lap. One of his hands draw close into a fist and he uses it to cover his mouth when he coughs.

“Just leave it on the nightstand,” he says once his small coughing fit has receded.

The response (or more like command) makes Mamiya pout momentarily, before he puffs out his cheeks and there’s suddenly a glint of determination in his eyes.

He does set aside the mug onto the nightstand, but as quickly as he sets down the drink Mamiya then snatches the papers out of Ariga’s grasp. The fact that Ariga doesn’t even react right away makes it all that much more easier for Mamiya to collect the rest of the paperwork and he sets it aside into a neat pile.

After that, Mamiya picks up the mug and, once again, holds it out to the other. “Drink this,” Mamiya says, a little more forceful this time, “You’ll feel better.”

A flushed face, messy bedhead and the glazed, tired look in Ariga’s eyes work against his favor in trying to glare and threaten Mamiya with just a look, for taking away his paperwork. But he knows that Mamiya will not budge until he does what his Messiah wants.

Ariga will admit that he admires Mamiya's stubbornness.

With a shake of his head, he takes the mug of lukewarm tea out of Mamiya's hands. He brings the edge of the cup to his lips and, carefully tips the cup back until he swallows a helping gulp.

Over the rim of the cup he could see Mamiya smiling, obvious and proud. It’s enough to make Ariga smile a little behind the mug, and he thinks it doesn’t hurt to take a break once in a while.

 

 

 

> **19.** _“Can I hold your hand?”_

  
The door slams open with enough force that the other end of the doorknob actually hits the wall. The impact so loud and unusual that Mamiya nearly drops his violin and very narrowly saves his precious instrument. There is a second slam when the door shuts close, but this time Mamiya manages to avoid any near misfortunes.

He carefully sets aside his violin next to him on his bed, and by the time he looks up Ariga is practically dragging his feet across the floor until he drops down onto the small couch in their room.

Last time — more like the one and only time — Mamiya has seen Ariga this exhausted was when they came back from a grueling assignment that nearly costed them their lives. So whatever that happened now must have been some sort of near-death experience, and that worried Mamiya plenty enough.

“Are you okay?” Mamiya asked, before standing up and cautiously approaching the couch.

Ariga rested his head against the backing of the couch before letting a noticeably heavy sigh. Slowly, he turns his head just enough to look at Mamiya with tired, squinted eyes. Then he lifts up his hand, palm up, and surprises Mamiya by asking, “Can I hold your hand?”

At first, Mamiya blinks his eyes in confusion at the sudden, but bold, request. Shortly afterwards, when realization dawns upon him, he looks away by staring down at his dirty boots while trying to ignore the warm feeling in his cheeks. Eventually he looks back up to find Ariga still holding his hand out, waiting for Mamiya apparently.

Mamiya gives in when he rolls his eyes, to hide his embarrassment, while he moves to plop himself down next to Ariga on the couch. Then he reaches over and takes Ariga’s hand, ignoring how easy and natural it was for his fingers to slip in between Ariga’s own.

Ariga gently tightens his grip on Mamiya’s hand with a smile on his face, and then he leans over and rests his head on Mamiya’s shoulder.

It’s another surprising action from his Messiah, but Mamiya finds himself not minding when he reaches over, with his free hand, and pats the top of Ariga’s head. Mamiya feels a little odd to be touching Ariga with such intimacy, but it is also rare for Ariga to have his guard down like this.

“Long day?” Mamiya tries again after a few minutes of silence has passed.

He only hears a deep grunt from Ariga, and Mamiya decides to take that as a decent enough of a reply.

Silence resettles back and Mamiya decides not to pester Ariga with small talk. Instead, he thinks about what could have tired out his Messiah this badly. When he recounts today’s events, he only remembers that they were together all day – busy with training lessons for the most part – until Ariga was called away by a superior. Even then Ariga was only gone for thirty, forty-five minutes maxed.

“Kuroko,” Ariga says out of the blue that causes Mamiya to blink a couple times.

“Don’t ever leave me alone with Kuroko, okay?”

Now Mamiya stops patting Ariga’s head in favor jostling him with the shoulder that Ariga is leaning against. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A very, very tired sigh slips out and Ariga retaliates by letting more of his body weight lean into Mamiya’s support. “He’s… very protective of you. Let’s leave it at that.”

Mamiya pouts and raises a concerned brow.

“You’re making no sense at all, Ariga.”

 

 

 

> **20.** _“You can borrow mine.”_

  
Mamiya frowns at the world right now as rain continues to pour down relentlessly. Today there are no lessons or reports to write up today, so he planned on running a few errands with the little free time he is given. Though, outside of the barber shop storefront, Mamiya just stands under the awning to shield himself from the rain.

“Mamiya?”

Said boy blinks and looks over his head to see Ariga standing behind him, with a closed umbrella at his side. The rainfall is so loud that he didn’t even hear the door opening and closing.

“Heading out?” Mamiya greets with a small smile on his lips.

He gets a nod in return from his Messiah and instead of promptly leaving to go about on his business, Ariga remains there and stares at Mamiya.

Before Mamiya would feel uneasy being on the other side of that look. However, overtime it has gotten easier for Mamiya to get used to his silent partner with his silent ways of handling things. So his smile doesn’t falter and he stands aside a bit. “Okay, guess I’ll see you later then.”

When Ariga doesn’t quite excuse himself is when Mamiya’s smile is replaced with a confused look, “What?”

“What are you doing out here?” Ariga finally says something.

“Oh,” Mamiya flushes a little and scratches at his cheek. “I wanted to go out, but I don’t have an umbrella and I didn’t realize it was raining this badly.”

Ariga hums quietly in understanding before, surprisingly, he suddenly holds out his umbrella to the other.

Mamiya blinks at Ariga, then looks down at the umbrella, and when it finally clicks in his mind he looks back up at Ariga while flailing his hands in rejection. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me.”

The refusal causes the corners of Ariga’s lips to dip downwards into a small frown. He steps forward and crowds into Mamiya's space while practically forces the umbrella into the other's hands. “You can borrow mine,” Ariga explains as he pops up the collar of his jacket and takes a look up at the bleak colored skies.

“W-Wait!” Mamiya awkwardly grips the umbrella in one hand and immediately grabs onto Ariga's sleeve with the other; before Ariga got a chance to dash out into the rain.

When Ariga doesn’t take a step forward (more like he couldn’t), Mamiya lets out a sigh of relief and releases his grip on the other’s sleeve. With Ariga’s attention back on him, Mamiya straightens his back and holds out his hands so he could open the umbrella. He swings it upright and holds the umbrella handle in the arm that is closer to Ariga; so that the umbrella is positioned perfectly over both of their heads.

“Why don’t we just go together?” Mamiya asks shyly.

For a moment Ariga looks surprised. Then he slowly nods his head once, in silent agreement. “That’s fine. Let’s go then.”

This is enough to bring out a pleased smile from Mamiya; and, on cue, both of them started to walk out into the streets.

 

 

“Ariga, you’re standing too far away.”

“…”

“You’re going to get wet.”

“…”

“H-Hey! Why are you walking so fast? Ariga!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more ariga/mamiya fluff in between all the hagane rn

**Author's Note:**

> also none of the drabbles are necessarily related to one and another other than the fact it's just ariga/mamiya


End file.
